


She's A Killer Queen

by corinnemaree



Category: Jurassic World (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Assassins & Hitmen, Assassins & Hitmen, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-17
Updated: 2017-03-17
Packaged: 2018-10-06 11:39:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10333844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/corinnemaree/pseuds/corinnemaree
Summary: Claire Dearing always has another hit she has to finish. The one man that knew he could take her down has just come back into her life after almost arresting her three years earlier. No matter the time, Claire and Owen can still get heated in all sorts of ways.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I HAVE NOTHING TO SAY OTHER THAN THIS JUST CAME TO ME AND I HATE MYSELF. GOOD DAY. HAVE FUN???

The metal in her palm was thick and heavy - the pipe wrench her only weapon and her breath steady, leaning against the door of the car. She was the prey, but she knew better than they did. With the thick fur coat over she shoulder and the short black dress that hugged her every curve, she felt at a disadvantage. The footsteps were nearby, just on the other side of the car, closer than she had predicted. Claire took shallow breaths, the air thick with her exhales and the cold night the perfect setting for a crime. 

When the footsteps rounded the car, Claire stood, throwing her full force into the swing and the wrench smacking the man up side the head. His head smashed onto the bonnet of the car, the alarm setting off the entire street. As Claire glanced over her shoulder, she saw his two body men - the two things she was hoping to avoid.

Claire bent down, searching the man’s jacket, fixing her hands in every pocket as the racing became closer. That’s when she felt it. Fixing her hand around the handle, she took out the gun and spun to the men - two shots, one in the chest of each of them. Though they may not have been direct and calculated shots that she’s so trained to do, they would soon drown in their blood and suffer. 

Flicking her hair out of her face, she pocketed the gun within her coat, disappearing into the shadows of the alley nearby. The people poured into the crime scene and Claire lit her cigarette, her ride appearing on the other side of the alley. Sliding into the car, Claire rolled down the window as the car drove on. Claire sighed, the smoke flowing out the window as she crossed her legs. She wasn’t having the best night. 

“Couldn’t have made it a silent endeavour?” her driver, Lowery, complained.

“His head set of the alarm. If the bastard hadn’t of disarmed me in the club, then I wouldn’t have had to take him to the streets,” she replied in a hostile voice. She extinguished her cigarette on the outside of door before tossing it. Lowery sighed before he tapped away on his screen. Claire felt her phone buzz against her thigh. 

“The transfer is complete,” he told her, stopping at the corner of her apartment building. Every night was a new location, a new bed she could never call her own - but that’s life when you’re an assassin. Claire stepped out of the car, leaning against the open window Lowery had open for her. “Discretion, next time, Dearing?” 

“In these tight dresses? Never,” she remarked, smirking to her long time driver. She blew a kiss to him as he headed off, their same goodbye every night to tell each other they were done before she headed inside. She was only going to be in Chicago for a few more hours, more likely until morning came, so a nap would be her only friend.  

Going up to the fourth floors, Claire slipped her phone from the suspender stockings, looking at the large sum of money that was now sitting in her bank account. Claire found her keys in the coat, unlocking her door and locking it behind her. Then, she was kicked against the door, grunting in the process. The shock of it all put her at a small disadvantage, but she wasn’t going to be taken down in the one space she was meant to feel safe. 

Claire was thrown against a wall, the wind knocked straight out of her. A knee driven to her gut? Check. A fist thrown at her face? Blocked. A tight fist in her hair? Kinky. She knew who it was, stepping hard onto his foot and using her leverage to knee him repeatedly in the stomach. He groaned before he pushed her to the ground and Claire scrambled to the coffee table, wrenching out the gun she hid there the day before. Still lying on the floor, Claire was panting as she looked up to him. Owen stood above her, watching as her gun didn’t stray from its target - him. He wore a tailored suit, the tie slightly tugged on and his shirt untucked from their little fight. Yet, he still looked as gorgeous as ever. Definitely not fair. 

“Owen, darling? How are you?” Claire said in between breaths. 

“What the hell was that?” he asked in a huff, obviously not asking about their fight from just a moment before. Claire tucked the gun back into her coat, shrugging it off and laying it over the side of the couch. 

“You screwed up a perfectly good job,” she retorted, moving past Owen to the kitchen. 

“You got your guy, didn’t you?” 

Claire turned, punching him in the shoulder. Owen’s brow crinkled as he held his shoulder. “Fuck you. That was supposed to be easy, then you walked in,” she complained, going into the cupboard to find the whiskey. Grabbing two glasses, she poured them both drinks. 

“Still have you begging for my attention?” he smirked. Claire was about to hand him the glass before she took it away, taking both for herself. 

“I’m not the naive girl you tried to arrest in Germany,” she said, pushing past him and going back to the living room slash bedroom. The open floor layout was good and fortunate in case of fights - hence why her agency kept the place paid up. 

“Still look good in a dress,” he smirked. Claire sat down on the stool and rested her glasses on the table. 

“I always look good in dresses,” she smiled. “So, have you finally tracked me down for good?” she said, swallowing the first glass of whiskey, wincing it down before picking up the next glass. 

“No,” he sighed, letting his hands fall to his hips. “I got fired.” 

Claire almost choked on the whiskey. “Way to stun a girl,” she chuckled. “What about the chase? I heard you were getting close on some of us,” she remarked. Owen ducked his head.

“Just couldn’t give you up. They were tired of you. I wasn’t.” 

Claire sat in shock, setting down the glass and shaking her head. “You can’t just say that after three years, Owen,” she exclaimed, standing - she was ready to fight, ready to beat him away from her so she didn’t have to deal with him - the romance she had punished herself with whenever she found herself lonely. 

“I can when it’s true,” Owen smirked. Claire bound her fists before she kicked up into Owen’s stomach. 

“Stop it,” she shouted as he was knocked back, guarding his face as Claire kicked up, her heels jabbing in his ribs and he grunted before his hands caught her ankle, throwing her back. He grabbed hold of the coat rack, swinging it wide and catching Claire in the side. She gripped it and pulled it from his hands. “This whole romantic side of you was fun when you were trying to get close, but I know your game!” Suddenly, before Claire could claim her next attack, Owen placed his hands over hers, snapping her wrists down to her sides. She fought against the wrath of him, but she couldn’t. Owen’s face was angry, but torn with emotion. 

“I never faked all of that with you, Claire,” he spat, voice breaking.  “It was real for me. I got swept up in you and fell hard, okay? What do you want me to say?” he asked, desperate for her to answer. Claire threw her head against his, his hands loosening and she kneed up into his stomach.

“I want you to say that I was a mistake,” she grunted, punching him over and over. owen fell on his back and Claire followed, straddling his waist and continued her assault. Owen caught both her hands and pulled them above her head. “I was just a girl you were tracking down for some fucking job. That I was a good fuck and that you were glad to be rid of me! I don’t need you or your -” Owen suddenly craned his neck and captured her lips with his own. “Don’t….why do you always have to make this hard,” she said in a soft voice.

“I’m an asshole,” he shrugged. Claire shook his hands off, cupping his cheeks as she brought him up, their mouths meeting like they were constantly drawn together. Owen’s hand cupped around her ass, tugging on her until she felt him rising to his feet. Colliding her back with the wall, Claire moaned, Owen’s lips capturing her neck and nibbling as much as he could before he wanted their lips to find each other once more. Their tongues danced against one another, every kiss getting more heated and the loss of her mind was killing her - she just wanted him. 

Owen’s hips thrust up against Claire’s, the thick bulge at the seam of his pants was tantalizing but Owen was concentrating on something else. As his hips held her against the wall, his hands were being used for better things - like ripping her dress down the middle and removing it from her body with as much force as he could. He did always like to look hot, and god was that hot. Claire pulled on the edge of his pants, begging for them to come loose so they could close all the distance. 

Fixing his pants down his hips and letting his cock free from its tight confinement. Rubbing himself against Claire’s further, she knew he was baiting her, seeing her beg like how she used to. She whimpered slightly and knew she had lost, watching as the smirk covered his lips. Moving her underwear to the side, Owen rubbed his tip over her heated lips, Claire’s back arching at the sensation. Claire pulled Owen closer, kissing him roughly. Owen slipped inside of her, a sudden gasp coming from her that turned to a moan as Owen thrust up into her. 

“Was wondering when I was going to feel you around me again,” Owen murmured before his mouth went to the side of her neck, tasting her as her head fell back against the wall. 

“Don’t have to wonder anymore,” she panted, rotating her hips against his. Owen moaned, his hand going up to her hair, tangling in before he pulled on it. Claire moaned as Owen fucked her against the wall - the wall shaking with every hard thrust and their bodies colliding with it. Every thrust was intoxicating, only moan shared. Claire ripped off his jacket, slipping his toe to the skin of his neck before tearing his shirt off. Somehow, he had gotten even more attractive than before. 

Claire wound her hand up in his tie, pulling on it to ride up and down on his cock. Owen’s face, buried in her chest, kissed and grazed his teeth against her skin, pulling her harder into him as she came down. Breathing hard, Claire kept rocking against his cock, trying to sustain her pace but she was becoming weak against him like she always did - her thighs tightened around his hips, begging for the chance to keep going and to hold onto the high she was feeling. 

As her core tightened, Owen moaned, quickening his pace like a madman. He drove himself until the edge of his hilt, and Claire could barely catch her breath. Owen held her hips, pinning her against the wall as he thrust into her, dragging his lips over her skin as she pants beneath him. With a few more thrusts, she was gone, rising slightly as Owen kept up his pace. Claire’s back arched as a hearty moan escaped her. She pulled on the fisted tie, raising it up for him to look at her. She quickly took his lips, a furrowed brow as the ecstasy took over her body. 

Owen took her from the wall, he stripped out of his clothes, moving around her and guiding her to the edge of the couch, leaning Claire over it. She bit her lip as she gripped into the material. Owen knelt, licking at her folds and tasting her - sucking on her every chance he got. Claire’s toes curled before Owen rose, his hand smacking against her ass. Claire shuddered, chuckling at the sensation - the pain mixing in with the pleasure. Owen fit inside her once more and Claire gripped in harder to the couch, feeling him rock into her. 

Their pace was slower than before, Owen teasing and taking his time, making sure to memorise the way she moved and her ultimate surrender underneath him. Then, he stopped being fragile and patient, he was ready to indulge himself. He made his pace quicker, smacking her ass again and moaning as Claire physically responded, everything in her begging for him without her even making a sound. Moaning now, Claire knew she was enticing him, making him go faster and do everything in his power to have her make louder sounds. 

Licking at his hand, Owen slipped his around her, fingers finding her folds and rubbing against her clit with intention. Claire shot up, her hand cupping his, moving his hand to her delights. Reaching over her shoulder, Claire tugged on his tie. Owen’s face came around, kissing and letting his tongue trail over her skin, making her pant and whimper - like she was music he wanted to hear.

“Why do you have to be so damn tempting, Dearing?” he said in a low voice, the sound vibrating through her and making her whimper. 

“Just lucky, I guess,” she said before Owen grumbling and kissed her, hard. Owen’s rough fingers played with her so well that it only took a few more moments to have her bucking against him and her orgasm coming easily. Owen moaned in her ear, breathing heavily against her neck as her orgasm was rippling over her again and again. Owen turned her around, picking her up again and walking to the bed. There were no words, no kisses exchanged - it was only in the look, the way his eyes wandered over her face, like he was trying to see how she had changed. She was wondering why she ever let him go. 

He laid her down, kneeling in between her legs as his lips trailed kisses over her stomach and up to the centre of her chest. Claire’s eyes were closed, his lips the perfect sensation of torment and pleasure. Owen always had a way of touching her and making her feel like she was the most special woman in the universe. When his mouth suddenly bit into her breast, she gasped, pushing her chest up and her whole body wanting him. 

Without even a whimper, Owen was inside her once more, their bodies moving and bucking against the other, gaining leverage. And yet, after all the heat and passion of their encounters before hand, this was so much more; there was love that translated into every kiss, every thrust and every small sound. They were one when they hadn’t been for years. Claire’s hands in Owen’s hair, she remembered when she used to pull it and how he bit at her when they were in the middle of their ecstasy. Now, she ran her fingers through his hair with tentative fingers and longer for his presence to stay by her. 

Working his hips up into hers, Claire clawed at his back, desperate fingers to hold onto him before her nails sharpened into his skin. He hissed as they were both coming to their peaks, both working beyond what they thought they were capable. Claire rocked and rotated her hips and Owen thrust into her with every inch of energy he had left. It wasn’t long before they were both gripping hard into each other, knowing that they were both going to end their climaxes together. Claire held on for as long as she could, but her orgasm came hard, her body thrusting up into Owen’s chest as she tore her nails down his back and held tightly into the sheets. Owen followed, trying not to still as he came, but he shook and had to stop for a moment before he rocked them back and forth, riding out their final moments. 

Owen’s hand went to the side of Claire’s face, smiling on her with care and tenderness in his eyes. “I love you, Claire,” he mumbled, looking down at her. Claire was panting heavily, unable to believe this was all real. She graced her hand over the side of his cheek, she hadn’t realised how much she had missed this face that looked so fondly on her. 

“I love you too,” she smiled and Owen grinned back, kissing her quickly. They laid, wrapped in each other’s arms and smiling; it had been so long since Claire had a moment of pure selfishness. Owen held her with affection and tenderness, Claire could barely believe she was there again. Owen went to sleep first, and Claire packed her things before joining him in slumber. 

Waking, Claire felt the soft touch against her spine, Owen’s fingers linger. It had been so long since she felt the same touch, how he could linger to feel her skin again. Turning to him, she saw him smile and how he seemed to sigh when she looked at him - It was like they were in love again. But really, when did Claire ever stop? She couldn’t recall her heart faulting when it came to Owen, she knew he always had a job that was made to take her down, but she was in love with his heart, his soul and the way his eyes twinkled in a special way, just for her. 

“So, what’s your plan?” she asked, kissing along his shoulder. Her hand went down the side of the bed, feeling the metal that she knew she needed. She made sure it didn’t touch again, waiting for the perfect time to strike. 

“What’s your next job?” he smiled. Claire sat up slightly, taking his hands above his head. 

“Was that ‘I was fired’ thing just some con to get me to sleep with you?” she threatened playfully. 

“Yes. Of course it was,” Owen said in a sarcastic tone. Claire giggled. “No. I’m asking ‘cause when we were partners, we were good together,” he sighed, combing hair out of her face. 

“We can do anything we want,” Claire whispered, kissing Owen’s lips before sirens started to blare out the window. Claire glanced over her shoulder before looking back at Owen. 

“They came sooner than I thought,” Owen said through gritted teeth. Claire moved the metal in her other hand latching the handcuff around his wrist as the other was chained to the bed. Owen pulled on it, realising he had also walked himself into a trap. He should have that coming -  Claire never played anything safe. 

“You,” Claire kissed Owen’s lips again as they both stood up, Owen pulled further towards the bedpost as the chain wouldn’t let him stray. He groaned before Claire tossed him his clothes. Claire quickly jumped into tracksuit pants and a jumper. Throwing her suitcase out the open window, she hitched her backpack up over her shoulders before making her way to a partially dressed Owen. “Owen Grady, you will be the end of me,” she smiled, her hand gracing over the back of his neck. He couldn’t help but smile back, the restraint wearing on him. He leaned down to kiss her, lingering lips and soft hands, they soon parted. 

“Likewise,” he whispered. Claire went to the window, taking the rope from her backpack and tying it to the curtain hook. The banging of the men rushing up the stairs was getting louder so Claire had less time. She tied the rope halfway up her arm before she glanced back to Owen.

“See you around, handsome,” she winked before she charged out the window, caution and fear aiding to her adrenaline. The rope was long enough to guide her down to the first floor window and she could drop from there. When the rope reached its end, the pull stunned her like she suspected. Her body was thrown against the wall and her arm felt like it was out of it’s socket. Claire looked down, knowing the drop would hurt less if she didn’t wait and she kept moving. Untying the rope, she dropped to the pavement that was a few feet, six or seven at the most. 

Landing, Claire grimaced, before she pushed herself to continued. She grabbed her suitcase, rubbed at her shoulder before it popped back into place - a minor displacement wasn’t that dramatic but it did hurt. As she walked down the street, Claire was suddenly met by a car. Lowery rolled down the window and Claire sighed. “Thought I was going to leave you hanging? Picked up the call about ten minutes ago. Thought you could use a ride,” Lowery smiled. Jumped into the backseat, her suitcase tossed to the other side, Claire had a moment to sigh and realise the mess she was in once more. Her phone buzzed and she grabbed it from her fur coats pocket. 

“Dearing. Status report?” she heard the familiar female voice. She smiled. 

“All fine. Will need some patch ups just to make sure. But other than that, fit as a fiddle,” she said, rubbing her shoulder.

“And the target?” Claire glanced back to the apartment building. 

“Handcuffed to a bedpost,” she chuckled. “He’ll come running, don’t worry. He always does.” 

“We need him as an ally soon.” 

“Don’t worry, I’ve got him wrapped around my finger,” Claire smirked, before glancing down at her blank left hand, her smirk dropping fast. Around her finger. How long ago that once was. 

“Claire,” Karen said softly. Though her sister was her superior, Karen had always been cautious of Claire’s behaviour. “How is your heart?” she asked. Claire let her head fall back onto the headrest.  _ What a question, sister. You really know how to put someone on the spot. _

“Given completely. But, I’ve got him anyway,” she sighed.  

“Good,” Karen cleared her throat. And that was the end of it. They would have Owen Grady and their task will be one step closer to completion. She just needed him to chase her one more time and he’ll be with her without restraint. 


End file.
